Runethane Vanerak's throne-hall is still under construction. At one end, miner-wretches are hacking away at the cavern wall, expanding the room forwards. At the sides, stonemasons even out rough scars with chisels and wet sandpaper. The cracking, grinding, and scraping combine to create the sound of stone under torture.

The only thing truly complete here is Vanerak's throne. It's carved from a spar of green marble, and egg-sized gems are set into it, though they are only beryl, not so precious. Diamonds are reserved for crafting.

One of his commanders enters. One of his Reconquerors, as the guild is styled. They believe that this realm, far at the south end of Runeking Ulrike's territory, to be a temporary inhabitation. They believe that they will one day return to the great cavern and chasm of Hazhakmar. Runethane Vanerak plans to keep this promise to them, but the return will come a lot further away than most suspect and hope.

The runeknight strides up the stone steps and kneels before his Runethane.

“What is it, Nazak?”

“Great news, my Runethane. Terrible news.” He looks up and his eyes are bright. “The black dragon has returned!”

“Returned? To our true realm?”

“No. Not in that sense.”

“Then in what sense?”

“In the sense that it's returned to destroy dwarves!” His eyes, still boring into Vanerak's mirror-mask, widen further. He's showing no fear. “To burn us and our crafts! To pillage and plunder!”

“I would like some specifics.”

“Rumor has it—“

“Mere rumor?”

“A rumor that grows in strength. One all but confirmed.”

“Very well. Tell me more.”

“The black dragon has destroyed Runeking Halajatbast and laid waste to his mountain.”

“I see.”

Nazak frowns. “My Runethane...”

“Yes?”

“You do not seem so interested. The rest of the guild—we're nearly in a frenzy. This could be our chance for revenge!”

“You wish for revenge?”

“Of course! My Runethane, do you not?”

“What is our name, Nazak?”

“The Reconquerors!”

“And do we wish to take back our true realm from the black dragon?”

“Yes!”

“But the black dragon is not there. It shows no interest in it. There's nothing there for it. No treasure. There's nothing but slag and ash.”

“I don't quite see what you're saying.”

“You're clever enough that I think you do, Nazak.”

Nazak scowls at the floor as he thinks.

He looks back up. “You mean we're not going to pursue it?”

“No.”

“No?” Nazak exclaims. “My Runethane, are you serious?”

“You know me well enough to know the answer to that.”

“The guild won't take this news well, my Runethane.”

“They will respect my decision.”

“Of course. They have no choice to.”

“Incorrect. They have no choice as to whether they obey it or not. They do have a choice about whether they respect it. I am not the only one who wears a mask. We all do, to an extent.”

“With all of my due respect, they wish to pursue the dragon.”

“We will pursue something else instead.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Nazak's eyes light up once more. “You mean it's finally time...”

“No.”

Nazak looks confused. “Then what?”

“Tell me, Nazak, what did you think of the trial we attended?”

“Ah.”

“You see, don't you?”

“I do. He's who we'll pursue. But my Runethane, he was found innocent under the Eyes of the Runeking.”

“Indeed.”

“I do not think it wise to go against Runeking Ulrike.”

“The Runeking watched from far away, and he is not infallible. He is no Runegod. And as for the high justices, they are first degrees, as you are, Nazak.”

“I see. They are not infallible either.”

“No. You're not infallible, are you? No mere runeknight is. No mere Runethane is either.”

“You think they made a mistake.”

“Indeed. A terrible mistake. My heart tells me that this time, for once, their runes were wrong.”

“Yes.” Nazak nods slowly. “Our efforts failed not because the power in the golden hammers was overwhelming, but because the power was flawed.”

“Exactly. And is it not our duty, as loyal subjects of Runeking Ulrike, to make sure his justice is kept?”

“It is.”

“And you remember what the traitor said in the second round, don't you?”

“How could I forget?” Nazak spits.

“For all his deficiencies, Zathar is no fool. Not anymore. He knows he'll be a pariah if he betrays his oath.”

“He'll pursue the black dragon.”

“Yes.”

“And now that we know where he's going, we'll pursue him.”

“Yes.”

“We must make haste. Do we leave now, though?”

“In five long-hours. During that time, we forge.”

Nazak grins. “Excellent. I've been looking for an excuse for new boots.”

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The Blue Shaft is located near the center of Allabrast, a couple districts along from the Fireflea District. It forms its own district, the Blue District, though this name is something of a misnomer, for the gates up are kept sealed, and when they do open, they only open a tiny crack. The dwarves of Allabrast are averse to sunlight. They do not want its heat to touch the stone of their city. They do not want to see the blue that gives this district its name.

Our army stands below the gates. They're two halves of a heavy steel circle divided by a snake-like curve. I'm gazing up at them, admiring the etchings of clouds, yet though they're certainly works of art, I feel a little disappointed. I'd expected them to be larger—they're only about fifteen feet across. A spiral steel walkway connects them to the ground.

“Have you ever been up them?” I ask Braztak.

“No. My excursions to the surface were all a long time ago.”

“How about you, Jerat? Faltast?”

“Not once.”

“Never.”

Xomhyrk is talking to the guards at the base of the walkway. I can guess what about—they don't want to have the gate open for the length of time needed to get us all through. He's a persuasive dwarf, but they're elites also, and look stubborn. Usually you need special access to get to the surface. I'm not sure he's gotten it for all of us. Actually, I'm not sure if an army this large has ever passed through the Blue Shaft.

Finally he manages to persuade them—knowing Allabrast dwarves, I'm guessing by means of a large bribe. The guards step aside from the entrance to the walkway and two by two the army begins to step onto it. I watch from below as they spiral up while we shuffle forward. Commoners at the far edges of the plaza cheer us on.

I see miners out the corner of my eye, but my focus is on the goal ahead.

Our turn comes. Braztak and Erak, our second degree, embark first. Then it's the turn of our other three third degrees. And now it's my turn. The metal creaks when I step up. It's rocking slightly, so I grab the railing to steady myself. White crystals spread from where the metal of my gauntlets makes contact. I let go to move my hand up, and they splinter into mist and vanish. They're not real ice, just illusions.

I catch Mulkath looking at them. His eyebrows are raised.

“What is it?”

“Impressive, Zathar. Runic power made manifest.”

“I'd always been told this kind of thing was a bad sign. That it meant your runes weren't controlled enough.”

“They aren't, are they?”

“Perhaps not. But they will prove effective.”

“I'm sure of it.” He nods. He may not like me, but he recognizes runic power when he sees it. “Just stay away from me in battle, all right? My own runes aren't taking the cold well.”

I look at his mercury runes. They're dulled somewhat. They don't have the same shimmer they've always had.

“Fair enough,” I say. “I'll keep clear.”

“Good.”

The walkway is not supported by pillars, nor does it hang by cables from the cavern roof. It contacts the stone at only two points: the entrance and the exit just below the circular gate. Xomhyrk reaches the gate and stops. He looks down past the twisting path at the guards. One of them, massive, nearly as tall as a human, stands by a large wheel. He talks with his fellows for a few seconds, then the most senior-looking one nods.

The wheel-guard takes it by both hands and, with great straining, starts to turn it slowly.

A shuddering vibrates the walkway. A few dwarves shout and cover their eyes. I do not. I watch intently as light pours through the curved gap. It grows brighter as the gap widens. Tears come into my eyes.

They're not from the brightness. How long has it been since I saw the sun? Dwarves should not be joyful to see it, I suppose, yet I am. When I last saw this light, who was I?

This light illuminated a different dwarf. A more foolish, more arrogant, less skilled one. Now it illuminates something harder, a dwarf with skills tempered by danger, and arrogance quenched by pain. It illuminates a dwarf with both the will and the skill to keep his oath.

The gate opens further. I see bare stone, light gray in the light, and smooth. A thrill runs through me.

The two halves vanish entirely into the stone. Xomhyrk points Icemite up the Blue Shaft and says:

“Onward, my dwarves, my dragonslayers, to the surface! And remember that dragonfire burns far fiercer than sunlight. Have no fear of it.”

He marches up the final stretch of the walkway and disappears into the light. We follow him, step by step, but because there's so many dwarves between us and him, and the winding of the path hasn't taken us very close to the gate yet, I can't see exactly how we're meant to ascend. I've been expecting some kind of lift-mechanism, like what I descended to the darkness on, but now I'm not so sure. If there was a lift, a certain number of us would climb on the platform, then we would all stop, then our movement would begin again once the empty platform had returned.

There's no breaks in our march though. I begin to grow a little worried. Is the only way up the shaft by stairs?

No. When we finally reach the gates, I understand how we're getting up. Not by elevating platform, not by stairs, and not even by ladders.

We're ascending by chain.